


A Mistletoe from Durin

by aquileaofthelonelymountain



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard and his children are shipping it, Cultural Differences, Fluff, Have a Happy Hobbit Holiday Gift Exchange, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Thilbo, bagginshield, courting, gallant Thorin, seasonal fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 02:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/pseuds/aquileaofthelonelymountain
Summary: Thorin plans to revive some Yule traditions from the Erebor he remembers from his childhood, and he invites Bilbo to join them ...





	A Mistletoe from Durin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saraste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/gifts).



> Happy holidays Saraste!! I hope you enjoy some seasonal fluff :)

Bilbo shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself.

“I can’t believe just how cold it is”, he mumbled; his breath immediately turned into white clouds in the air. “How can it be so cold when the sky is clear _and_ the sun is shining?” He nodded towards the blue cloudless sky, but regretted the gesture at once as the frostiness bit into the unprotected skin of his throat. Quickly he buried his face in his scarf again.

“This isn’t uncommon here in the mountains”, Thorin explained and continued to check the harness of the goats. The vehicle they would pull looked rather adventurous, like a small sledge, but with wheels instead of runners. Thorin had promised that it would bear them safe and sound to Dale, but Bilbo already scrunched his nose as he thought of the biting wind that would accompany their journey. “During winter, it often happens that the temperature is the lowest when there’s not a single cloud in the sky. You could ask Óin to tell you the reasons behind that, he knows how to read the signs of the sky very well.”

Bilbo muttered something about winter in the mountains into his scarf, but then he scolded himself for being in such a bad mood. He had been really looking forward to visiting Dale together with Thorin, and the cold wouldn’t dampen his spirit.

Today was Yule, after all.

A few weeks ago, Thorin had asked him if he would be interested to learn more about his people’s holiday customs. Bilbo had agreed at once, honoured that the king would tell him more about the culture of the dwarves – he might be a member of the company, but he was still a hobbit and thus an outsider, at least to some degree. He had been more than excited to hear that Thorin wanted to revive some of Erebor’s Yule traditions, customs he remembered from his own childhood, but had never celebrated during his people’s exile. The dwarf had positively beamed whenever telling Bilbo some of the things he planned for Yule, and it had warmed the hobbit’s heart to see him so full of joy and anticipation.

He smiled to himself, the gesture hidden behind his scarf. It wasn’t just the prospect of learning more about the culture of his friends, but the prospect of spending time with Thorin that had excited him.

“Here, Bilbo. This will chase away the cold.” Snow crunched beneath his boots as Thorin approached him and handed him a small leather pouch. The hobbit gasped in surprise at the heat that radiated from it and that he could feel through his gloves. “There’s a small stone in the pouch”, the dwarf explained, “and that comes right out of one of the forges.”

Bilbo moved the pouch from one hand into the other with delight before pressing it to his chest; the warmth it spread was more than pleasant. “What about you? Do you have such a stone for yourself as well?”

Thorin had moved around the sledge to check the chest on the luggage rack, but looked up to raise an eyebrow at the hobbit’s question.

“I see.” Bilbo grinned. “Sometimes I forget that you dwarves are basically moving furnaces.”

“To your benefit.” Thorin showed him a smirk. “Sitting next to a furnace could prove quite convenient on our way to Dale.” Finally satisfied with his inspection, he climbed onto the coach box and held his hand out to Bilbo. “Or would you prefer to sit next to the luggage?”

“I think the view from the coach box will be nicer”, he replied cheerily and took the offered hand. Thorin pulled him towards him with ease. He bumped into the dwarf, but a hand on his shoulder prevented him from stumbling. Thorin let his hand linger while he reached for a blanket and draped it around Bilbo’s frame.

“To keep you warm.”

Bilbo smiled up at him. “Thank you.” He sat down next to the dwarf and shuffled closer to him, not only for his body’s warmth.

When the sledge started with a jolt he grabbed Thorin’s arm for purchase. He held the reins loosely and they drove at a moderate pace, but a waft of icy air hit Bilbo’s face nonetheless. He huddled as close to Thorin as he could for shelter. Nonetheless he watched in wonder how the wintery landscape passed by; the snow seemed to glitter in the sunshine. His stomach did a leap when the sledge moved over uneven ground, but after a first moment of surprise he laughed and gave Thorin a light slap on the shoulder.

“You did that on purpose!”

Thorin only grinned, and Bilbo pretended not to notice that the goats suddenly ran a little faster.

They reached Dale within no time, and Bilbo was actually a little sad when the ride was over, even despite the icy tip of his nose.

Thorin brought the goats to a stop amidst the grand square in front of Dale’s town hall and home of its Lord, and he quickly got off the sledge to hold out a helping hand to Bilbo. A stable boy had already appeared from a low building on the opposite side of the square, and although he looked a bit puzzled at the goats for a moment he took the reins with enthusiasm.

“Welcome to Dale, King under the Mountain.” Both of them turned towards the hall to see Bard coming down the front steps. “Welcome, Master Baggins. And Yule’s blessing to both of you.”

Thorin performed a deep bow while Bilbo smiled at the man. “Yule’s blessing to you, Lord Bard.”

He had to bite back a chuckle as the former bargeman grimaced; he still wasn’t too fond of his new title. “If you’d follow me”, he mumbled into his scarf and gestured up the stairs. “I’m afraid we still have to find a solution for that”, he explained, “especially now that dwarves … and a hobbit visit us regularly again.”

It only took Bilbo two steps to gather the meaning behind those words: The stairs had been made by men – and for men. Their height wasn’t very comfortable for him, but Thorin placed a hand on his lower back to support him, and Bilbo showed him a grateful smile.

They entered a vast hall with a long table and benches in its middle. A fire was crackling in the stone hearth, but it wasn’t strong enough to warm the hall yet. Bilbo scrunched his cold nose – that didn’t feel very pleasant – and was glad when Bard led them into a by far smaller and warmer room. It was a cosy living room, but there was a small kitchen counter as well. No servants were busying themselves here, but Bard’s eldest daughter Sigrid was ladling some dark liquid into cups; the smell hung temptingly in the air. She welcomed them with a perfect curtsey and brought the tray with the cups to a table.

“Please, have a seat”, Bard told them. “If you’d like to take off your coats, I’ll find a peg somewhere for them.”

Right now Bilbo didn’t feel like taking off his coat yet, but the fire already thawed his nose and warmed his cheeks, and he still had the pouch with the stone in his pocket. So he began to undo the countless buttons and laces that had kept the cold away, and when he had managed that Thorin stood behind him to help him out of the coat. He also drew back the chair for him, and being treated so gallantly warmed Bilbo more than the fire did.

He took the cup Sigrid offered him gladly nonetheless and inhaled the rich scent of spiced wine with delight.

“Cheers”, Bard said and raised his own cup. “To a merry Yule.”

Bilbo and Thorin repeated the toast before taking a careful sip of their hot drink. “Delicious”, Bilbo remarked. “It tastes like Yule indeed.” Sigrid beamed at this compliment, and she didn’t put the plate with gingerbread in the middle of the table, but directly in front of him. Then she went into the next room. Bilbo could hear muffled laughter, and he didn’t have to look at Bard’s smile to know that it belonged to Bain and Tilda.

“Spiced wine and gingerbread”, Thorin said, his voice fond with memories. “My grandfather often told me about his Yule visits to Dale, and he always mentioned how much he enjoyed those treats.”

“So you’ve never accompanied your grandfather on one of his visits?” Bard asked.

Thorin shook his head. “It was tradition that only the king came to visit on this special day, together with … a companion.”

Bard raised an eyebrow as the dwarf hesitated in his speech for a moment, but he only said: “It’s a nice tradition to revive, though. The King under the Mountain and the Lord of Dale meeting to talk, but not about politics or trade. I like that variety.”

“How did you celebrate Yule in Lake-Town?” Bilbo asked while reaching for a piece of gingerbread. “Did you have any special traditions?”

“Most of our Yule celebrations were rather plain, I’m afraid.” The former bargeman showed him a smile. “They always felt rather festive nonetheless. I remember that the most exciting thing when I was still a child was that we didn’t eat fish on Yule, but turkey. We also put on our best clothes to visit our kin and friends, and many fishermen placed lanterns or candles in their boats. It was a wonderful sight to behold. How about the Yule traditions of your country, Master Baggins?”

“Well, there’s a lot of food and drink, of course.” Bilbo grinned and took another piece of gingerbread. “We also celebrate with our family and friends, and exchange gifts. My favourite Yule tradition, though, is bringing mistletoes into our homes. We gather them in little bundles and put them on doorframes.” The tips of his ears suddenly grew warm. “And if you and another person happen to meet beneath the mistletoe, you share a kiss.” He took a sip of his spiced wine. “I remember my parents standing beneath the mistletoe, and I received a lot of kisses from then when I was still little. Then I came into my tweens and had a phase when I thought this tradition to be somewhat embarrassing. But then I grew older, and I didn’t think like that anymore. I avoided to meet people beneath the mistletoe, however. I … I didn’t want to share a kiss with anybody, tradition or not. I only wanted to share a kiss with somebody who would look at me the way my parents looked at each other.”

Bilbo had stared into his cup while speaking, but now he found his own gaze inevitably drawn to Thorin. He couldn’t help it, he just had to look at the dwarf. His heart beat faster as he saw how the dwarf watched him in turn. Adoration stood openly on his face, and a soft smile played around his lips. His blue eyes were shining with something Bilbo couldn’t put into words. He only knew that its strength had his heart overflowing and his breath hitch, and he had to look away again.

He still caught a glimpse of Bard staring at them with an open mouth before the Lord of Dale remembered his manners and closed it again. To his luck, he was saved from finding a way to continue their talk as the door was pushed open and Tilda stormed into the room, followed by her siblings.

“Da!” she squealed with delight and hurried to her father’s side. “More and more people are arriving at the square!”

“They’re early”, Bard commented. “I guess they’ve been excited for the mountain king’s arrival as well.”

“Then we shouldn’t let them wait.” Thorin smiled at Tilda who was bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’ve brought something for you as well.”

Suddenly Bard tensed. “I know it was also custom that the King under the Mountain brought gifts to Dale, but I assure you that won’t be necessary. You kept your promise, we got enough gold to rebuild our homes.”

“Who said anything about gold?” Bilbo noticed that Thorin’s eyes were twinkling with anticipation. He remembered the large chest on their sledge, but their content had been kept a secret from him.

“Oh, it’s a surprise!” Tilda clapped her hands. “Can we go and have a look, Da? Please!”

“Please”, Bain and Sigrid added in unison.

Bard was defeated. “Don’t forget your hats and gloves”, he simply said, and all three children hurried to get their warm clothes. He shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to get ready as well. I’ll fetch your coats, just a moment.”

When the Lord of Dale had left the room, Bilbo turned to Thorin. “You won’t reveal the surprise to me yet?”

“Just a little more patience”, the dwarf replied with a smile. He laughed heartily when Bilbo showed him a mock pout. “Don’t try to twist me around your little finger! I won’t give in, not today.” He lowered his voice as if he was about to tell Bilbo a secret. “There are some more surprises waiting for you today, Master Baggins, and surprises are part of Yule’s magic. Don’t you agree?”

There came a cough from the door. “I’m back with your coats”, Bard announced a tad too casual. Bilbo was startled and took a step back; he hadn’t even realized that he and Thorin had been gravitating towards each other until they had almost touched. He grabbed his coat from Bard in passing and donned it on his way out; the vast hall that had been chill before felt way too stuffy now.

He stepped outside and came to a halt when he realized that all eyes on the square had turned towards him. It wasn’t a very comfortable feeling, being the focus of attention like that, and he was glad when Thorin and Bard appeared next to him. Some of the people began to whisper and murmur at the sight of the Lord of Silver Fountains, but if their stares irritated Thorin then he didn’t show it. He smiled and nodded at the people, but went towards their sledge without hesitation, Bilbo following in his wake.

With quick movements he opened the chest’s lid, and Bilbo could finally peek inside. There were dozens of little boxes made from polished wood. Thorin let a hand hover above them before looking up again to search Bard and his children.

“Tilda?” he asked kindly, and the girl stepped closer. “What’s your favourite animal?”

“Bunnies!” she exclaimed immediately.

“Is that so?” Thorin picked one of the boxes and held it out to her. “Then I think you might like this one.”

She took the box as if she was handed a tiny bird. She opened it just as cautiously, and her face lit up while doing so.

“Oh”, she whispered in awe. “It’s so beautiful.” From his spot next to Thorin Bilbo couldn’t see what was inside the box although he craned his neck, and he had to exercise patience until Tilda lifted a fragile construction of silver wire out of it. It looked like a bunny indeed, and Tilda gave a squeak when its ears twitched suddenly. “It’s moving, it’s moving!” A crowd of children gathered around her immediately, and their fascinated “ahs” and “ohs” drew a laugh from Bilbo’s lips. He watched fondly how Thorin asked other children what their favourite animals were, and how he always found a box after their fancy. Soon the square was filled with laughter, and the adults were just as excited to see the toys as their children; Bard was looking at the gifts his children had received with wide eyes and a smile as well.

“Dale was once famous for its toy market”, Thorin explained after he had emptied the chest; he had stepped next to Bilbo who was still watching the merry-making. “It was the only place in Middle-Earth where you could buy mechanical toys, crafted by the toymakers of Erebor.”

“It’s a wonderful tradition to revive.”

“I’ve got one gift left.” There was something in Thorin’s voice that had Bilbo turn away from the crowd and look at him instead. The dwarf again was watching him affectionately while he held out a tiny wooden box to him. “It’s for you.”

“Will you not ask what my favourite animal is?” Bilbo accepted it without taking his eyes off Thorin; the polished wood was smooth beneath his fingers and still carried the warmth of Thorin’s skin.

“There’s no toy animal inside, I’m afraid.”

The hobbit finally looked on the box on his palm properly. It was a small one, too tiny to contain another mechanical toy. He held his breath while opening it, and for a moment he wondered if he looked as enthralled as the children.

The second its secret was revealed to him, however, he forgot everything around him.

Thorin’s gift to him was a tiny acorn wrought from silver.

Bilbo brought his face close to it to take in all its gorgeous details; it looked as if a real acorn had been covered with a thin layer of metal … just like the one he had picked up in Beorn’s garden. Suddenly it began to turn around itself in a slow circle, but instead of moving gears Bilbo heard something else. Music, gentle and sweet. It was a musical box.

“Is this really for me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the music. He thought to recognize the melody; it reminded him of a tune from the Shire. The hobbit couldn’t tear his gaze away from the moving acorn although he longed to look into Thorin’s face.

“Do you like it?” Thorin asked in the same hushed voice. “The melody … I heard you humming it sometimes. You seemed to be fond of it …”

“Thorin”, Bilbo said, and his throat felt tight all of a sudden. “This is the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received.” He had intended to tell Thorin that his gift for him was still in his chambers in Erebor, but the words forsook him as he finally looked up and met the dwarf’s gaze. Thorin was smiling at him, that wonderful tender smile he only showed Bilbo. He leaned a little closer, and now Bilbo felt his warm breath on his chill skin. His lips were slightly parted, and Bilbo found himself inevitably drawn towards them …

“Your Majesty!”

Both of them were jolted back into the here and now as a bunch of children approached them, happily clutching the boxes with their mechanical toys to their chest. They were grinning broadly and performed deep bows every elven courtier would be jealous of.

“Thank you so much for your generosity!” they cheered.

“I’m glad to see you enjoy your toys”, Thorin replied, bearing a flush on his cheeks. He cast a glance at Bilbo and slightly shrugged his shoulders. He looked apologetic, but the hobbit showed him a smile. It was a pity that they had been interrupted, but they would have enough time for themselves later.

He was sure that this would be the most magical Yule he had ever experienced.

 

***

 

The children’s fascination and joy with their mechanical toys was heart-warming, and Bard watched with a smile how they showed each other their new treasures and giggled with excitement whenever one of the animals moved its ears, paws, or wings. Seeing his people like this, Bard found it hard to remember that they had almost waged war against their dwarven neighbours.

Now the people cheered and applauded when the King under the Mountain and Master Baggins climbed onto their sledge again to return to Erebor. They smiled and waved back at the people, and some children laughingly ran after their sledge until it passed through the gates of Dale. Bard watched them until they became a small spot in the distance.

“Da? Is something wrong?” Sigrid asked as she stepped towards him, Bain and Tilda behind her.

Bard, being lost in thoughts, hadn’t even realized that he had frowned. “I just remembered something my great-grandfather told me … Girion’s son”, he explained. “When he was a boy, the King under the Mountain visited Dale on Yule as well.”

“That was when Thrór ruled under the Mountain, right?” Bain asked.

Bard nodded. “And like the Kings before him, he was only accompanied by one other person on his Yule visit … his Consort.”

All three children turned towards the Lonely Mountain as if they were trying to catch another glimpse of the King and his Masterburglar.

“Oh!” Sigrid finally exclaimed. “But they wouldn’t get betrothed without telling us, would they?” She sounded rather upset about the possibility. “I mean, he’s the King under the Mountain! He would have to make a public announcement, right?”

“And if they aren’t engaged _yet_?” Bain suggested.

“If they get engaged today, will there be a spring wedding?” Tilda asked. “That would be so romantic!”

Now Bard found himself staring towards Erebor as well. For a moment he could clearly see Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins as they walked hand in hand beneath the autumn trees, wearing crowns of oak leaves and acorns on their heads while colourful leaves whirled around them.

“It will be an autumn wedding”, he mumbled, and he wasn’t surprised when none of the children disagreed with him.

 

***

 

The afternoon found Bilbo amidst a crowd of excited children and their parents again.

He and Thorin had lingered in Dale longer than intended, and after their return to Erebor the dwarf had already needed to go and prepare himself for the next event. Bilbo would have enjoyed to spend more time with him, perhaps over a light lunch, but he had felt like floating on clouds nonetheless. He had gone into the kitchen to grab some soup and had returned into his chambers, but he had barely eaten more than a few spoons full. Instead he had dreamily watched the little acorn turning around its own axis while gentle music filled the air. More than once he had burst into giggles or longing sighs.

His heart was just so full, and it was the most beautiful feeling.

The musical box was a wonderful gift, crafted with great care and thought … with love. Oh, he had often guessed – had _almost_ been sure that Thorin returned his feelings. Since the Battle of the Five Armies, they had spent a lot of time together. At first Bilbo had been sitting at Thorin’s sickbed, but even after the dwarf had recovered and undertaken his kingly duties, he had always made sure to see Bilbo daily, be it to share a pipe or over a cup of tea. There could only be one explanation for Thorin’s gentle smiles, the lingering touches, the fondness in his eyes … But never before had he been so direct in his courting of Bilbo, and there had always been this tiny spark of doubt, telling him that he was just seeing what he wished to see … until today.

Bilbo smiled into his cup of hot chocolate, feeling as if he was in his own world although the hall was full of dwarves. He had known that many dwarves returning to the Mountain had brought their families with them, but so far he hadn’t realized how many children there were in Erebor indeed.

Dwarf children, he noticed quickly, were just like hobbit children in many ways. They ran around in the hall, playing games of tag or hide-and-seek, smearing their faces and beards with hot chocolate and devouring vanilla cookies by the whole. They were laughing, but also jittery; their excitement was palpable.

 _Just like my own_ , Bilbo thought while taking another sip. _I can’t wait for Durin to finally appear._

Durin’s Visit was the tradition Thorin had been most excited to revive. The King, he had explained, dressed up as Durin the Deathless to visit Erebor’s children. He listened to their wishes for the next year, gave them good advice and his blessing in form of a little gift or sweet treats. That was all Thorin had told him about this tradition, reminding him with a cheeky smile of Yule’s magical surprises once more.

The sudden chiming of bells interrupted his thoughts; their deep, melodious sound filled the hall and had all children fall silent at once. All eyes wandered to a door that was still veiled by a curtain, waiting for it to part and let Durin enter. The excitement rose when the bells fell silent and footsteps could be heard, slow and grave.

All children held their breath as Durin finally stepped into the hall, and Bilbo’s breath hitched as well.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected. Names like _Durin the Deathless_ and _Father of the Longbeards_ and _Eldest of the Seven Fathers_ had evoked the image of an ancient-looking dwarf with a beard that reached to the floor. If he imagined Gandalf as a dwarf, then he had a good impression of Durin as well.

But this Durin wasn’t ancient. He was regal and enthralling and everything else Bilbo adored about Thorin.

Thorin – Durin – was clad in midnight blue, and tiny gems sparkled on the fabric like stars on the surface of a lake. There wasn’t a single braid in his hair, instead it fell on his shoulders in loose waves. On his head sat a silver crown of seven stars, his only jewellery; the metal shone brightly against his dark hair. Only his smile shone brighter.

Looking at him made Bilbo’s heart yearn.

The hobbit watched him the whole time smiling at the children, listening to their wishes and gifting them sweets – he had a little treat for Fíli and Kíli who suddenly appeared amidst the children as well. He gazed at him while he talked to the parents, sharing memories of the Erebor of old and visits of Durin they had witnessed themselves. He was still staring at him when all children had eventually gotten a treat and Durin approached him with a smile.

“Yule’s blessing to you, Master Baggins”, he greeted him with a deep bow. “Is there any wish you would like to tell me?”

“Your generosity honours me, Lord Durin.” The hobbit returned the bow, and he also took these moments to gather his courage. “But I’m afraid not even you will be able to fulfil my wish. There’s only one person in this vast kingdom who can do this.” The tips of his ears were burning, but he kept his eyes fixed on Durin.

“Maybe I can help you nonetheless”, the dwarf replied with a smile that let Bilbo’s heart beat faster. Durin reached into the pocket of his dark blue tunic and took out a letter he offered the hobbit. The roll of parchment was held together by a red ribbon, and a twig of mistletoe was attached to it. Bilbo brought it close to his face and inhaled its fresh scent; it had only been picked a few hours earlier.

“Someone gave me this for you, Master Baggins.” Durin took another step forward, and now he was so close that Bilbo could feel the warmth of his body. He brought his lips to the hobbit’s ear and whispered: “Do not worry. I am very sure that your feelings are returned.”

Durin drew back, and with another meaningful glance to the letter he disappeared.

 

***

 

Bilbo was a little out of breath when he finally reached the meeting place.

He was still clutching the letter he had received from Durin to his chest, together with a bundle of wool. The parchment was covered with Thorin’s elegant hand-writing, and it had led him to this place high up in Erebor. He had followed the dwarf’s directions far above the ground, intrigued by this kind of scavenger hunt and wondering what would await him once he reached its end.

After climbing up a long, winded staircase he finally stood in a chamber that was only lit by a single candle. Although Bilbo hardly saw anything, he knew at once that this place had to be special.

It was somewhat chill, but he felt breathless again when Thorin approached him, gilded by the light. The dwarf had changed Durin’s star-studded clothes for a simpler tunic, and no crown rested on his unbraided hair anymore. He looked more enchanting than ever.

As he stood in front of him, Thorin took off his cloak and put it on Bilbo’s shoulders. His arms encircled the hobbit, and Bilbo took the chance. He made a step forward to rest his head against Thorin’s chest. Warmth flooded through his body as Thorin wrapped his arms around him, drawing him closer, and lowered his head to nuzzle his curls. Bilbo felt the dwarf’s breath brushing through them, and he closed his eyes to savour the feeling.

They stayed like this for long moments, basking in each other’s closeness, before Thorin whispered into Bilbo’s hair: “Thank you for coming all the way up here.”

The hobbit let out a small incredulous laugh – where else should he be now? “Of course I’m here”, he replied tenderly and raised a hand to card his fingers through Thorin’s short-cropped beard. Thorin leaned into the touch, and his eyes fluttered closed in such a relaxed, dreamy way that Bilbo laughed affectionately. He indulged a while in the caress before opening his eyes again and looking at the hobbit. “I’d like to show you something.”

“Before that … may I present my gift to you?” Bilbo offered Thorin the bundle of ruby-coloured wool, watching with a tingle in his belly how cautiously the dwarf took it from him.

“I made this scarf for you”, Bilbo explained. “I’m afraid it won’t be of much use for you since you dwarves are, as I told you earlier, moving furnaces, but … it’s a way of the Shire, you know? It means that I want to keep you safe and warm … that I want to take care of you.”

Thorin had brought the scarf close to his face to inhale its scent and feel its softness on his skin, but now he lowered it again to look at Bilbo with a smile.

“Thank you, Bilbo”, he said softly and took his hand to breathe a kiss on the knuckles.

With his arm around the hobbit’s waist, he led Bilbo towards a settee. Bilbo blinked in surprise as he realized that the opposite wall seemed to be completely made of glass, but the light of the candle was reflected on its surface and made it impossible to tell what was beyond.

“Have a seat, please. There’s a blanket as well. I’ll be with you in a second.”

While Bilbo made himself comfortable, Thorin blew out the candle, and darkness closed in around them. The hobbit could barely make out his silhouette, but as the dwarf settled down next to him he spread the blanket over both of them. He huddled close to Thorin, resting his head on his shoulder while the dwarf curled an arm around his waist.

Although Bilbo was curious what Thorin wanted to show him – and how he should see whatever that was in the complete darkness – he was more than content to stay like this and simply wait. Thorin was a warm, comforting presence next to him, and he snuggled even closer up to him.

It took him a while to notice that something had changed. The darkness didn’t seem impenetrable anymore, but there were lights – tiny, sparkling lights. _Stars_ , he realized with such a rush of excitement that he sat up a little.

On the other side of the glass wall was nothing but the sky, endlessly wide and covered with stars.

Despite being so comfortable in Thorin’s embrace, he couldn’t resist the urge to get up and move towards the glass wall. He stepped forward until he could touch the wall; it felt chill beneath his fingers. The stars seemed even closer from here, and his eyes widened at the sight. He put his head into the neck and saw that the ceiling was made of glass as well, thus granting him a look at countless breath-taking stars.

“My wish to Durin”, Thorin said quietly as he stepped behind Bilbo, “was a clear sky so I could show you this tonight.”

Still not able to tear his gaze away, Bilbo took a step back into Thorin’s waiting arms. He didn’t dare to speak right now; tears prickled in the corner of his eyes, and his throat was constricted. He felt more happiness than his heart could contain.

Close to his ear, Thorin whispered: “Merry Yule, my love.”

Finally Bilbo found the strength to turn around. He still did not speak, but reached out to cup Thorin’s face and pull him close until their lips met in a kiss. Thorin’s lips were soft and warm against his, and they carried a faint taste of Yule – gingerbread, hot chocolate, spiced apples. He answered the hobbit’s kiss tenderly, and Bilbo lost himself to Thorin, kissing him until he felt dizzy with joy.

The star-lit night around them filled with their ragged breaths as they had to draw apart, but Bilbo wrapped his hands around Thorin’s neck to keep them close together. “Thorin”, he whispered, “Thorin, I love you.”

Before he could answer, Bilbo kissed him again under the stars … and again.

 

 

***

 

The early morning started cloudless like the day before; it would be an icy day again. Bilbo, however, felt perfectly warm beneath the blanket and in the arms of his dwarf.

He propped himself up on his hands to smile down at him. Thorin was still slumbering, looking peaceful and content. His hair had become a tangled mess, but Bilbo got the feeling that the dwarf wouldn’t mind if he combed it for him later. For now he brushed one stray lock out of his forehead, thus revealing the scar above Thorin’s brow. Bilbo bent down to graze a kiss on it, and his fingers slid across Thorin’s bare chest until he felt his heartbeat beneath his palm, calm and steadying.

The dwarf stirred slightly at the touch, and Bilbo withdrew his hand, deciding to forget past worries and let him sleep. The blanket slipped off his shoulder during his movement, and as the cold bit into his skin he quickly reached out to cover himself again.

He glanced up at the ceiling. Now he saw that the chamber was more of a cavern, but great parts of the ceiling as well as a whole wall had been replaced by glass. The sky above them wasblue, but he noticed a dab of colour as well – something green. It seemed to float in the air; Bilbo couldn’t tell how it had been attached or if there was a thin wire hidden somewhere that held it in its position.

He turned to Thorin again and lowered his head to brush a kiss on his lips. Maybe Thorin would wake up, but that was a risk Bilbo had to take.

They had spent the whole night beneath a mistletoe, after all, and traditions had to be esteemed.


End file.
